


Time Changes Everything

by mustachio



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, TOKW AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:39:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the alternate DLC future, King Washington ruled the world thanks to the Apple of Eden; the only resistance against his rule had been the resistance that was made up of the former Assassin and Templar orders. In this time, Charles and Connor have set aside their differences and were able to work well together (probably after Haytham's death) and even became lovers until a failed assassination attempt on the King sends their minds back into the past."</p><p>Prompt on the kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing he remembers is the sound of Charles yelling for him to stop, that this was all a trap, and that he needed to get back right away. But it by the time he hears Charles’ calls, it’s too late. He’s already lunging for Washington, blade out, and ready to pierce the former commander’s neck. His blade never makes the necessary contact with Washington’s throat, though. There’s a flash of light and then—then everything is so much calmer that it had been. The sky is no longer red from the flames that roared around them and the noises of the people around him were cheers, not screams.

Something falls from his hands and he hears the crash of it as it hits the water below. He doesn’t notice that it’s a crate of tea that he just dropped and he doesn’t realize that the people standing behind him were allies he had thought to be dead. It’s as though someone else is taking control of his body and he’s just a spectator to it all. At least it feels that way until his vision focuses completely and he sees the three men on the other side of the dock. Templars. Two who should have been dead, the other who should have been at his side, not theirs.

He remembers this situation. He remembers looking at those three in this situation before and he remembers dropping the tea crate into the ocean years ago. He remembers the way Charles had looked at him with such hatred before walking away with his former allies and the way Stephane pulled him away from the scene when it was time to go. Connor tries to ignore the way his insides seem to tighten up when Charles looks at him that way again and the way he wants to fight against Stephane’s pull so that he might join the only one here he hasn’t lost already.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much thought to realize exactly what must be happening here and so he fights against all urges to join Charles and goes with Stephane and Same Addams and Paul Revere just like he had all those years ago. Before Washington had fallen to the power of the Apple, before all his work as an Assassin went to hell, before they were all killed for aiding Connor and Charles in what little resistance they could muster up. The powers of the Pieces of Eden were great and Washington’s was no different. He must have sent Connor and Charles back to the past—to a time when Connor posed no threat and Charles could not act without losing his position in the Continental Army. But the way Charles had looked at him just moments ago—is it possible Charles lost his memories of what’s to come? Does he not remember everything they’ve been through together—how their relationship has evolved since this time?

He thinks about this until Sam’s voice interrupts his train of thought to say that they should probably be going their separate ways once they’re far enough and continues thinking about it when he’s alone. He sorely hopes he’s wrong. Despite how he originally felt about Charles in the past—at the time he’s being forced to relive now—things have changed too much to settle back into his old way of thinking. Going from mortal enemies to lovers was an amazing accomplishment that he didn’t want to give up, but if Charles hadn’t retained his memories he may not have a choice.

Connor is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the person coming up behind him until they’ve got him pinned against the wall, drowning any protests he might have with a possessive kiss. His heart rate picks up with the realization of just who it is that’s doing this and he can’t remember a time when he felt quite this happy to have Charles’ facial hair tickling him while they kissed. He pulls away slightly, just enough that he can speak, though not enough that he loses the feeling of Charles’ lips on his.

“Charles—“

“Not now.”

Any other words he might have had are again swallowed by Charles’ mouth and Connor lets it happen. He’s just relieved that they were both able to retain their memories of the future. He makes no move to stop Charles from removing his breeches, opting to reciprocate the action instead. Neither bothers with the top half of their clothing. There’s no time. They’ve only got the protection of the alley they’re in to shield them from any unwanted onlookers and if they waste time with unnecessary things they could very well be caught.

Connor hooks his legs around Charles’ waist and Charles presses closer, supporting Connor’s weight between his body and the wall behind them. Charles enters hard and fast and there’s some discomfort from being penetrated dry, but he’s used to it by now and welcomes it. When you’re forced to live as though each day is your last with few supplies and no permanent place to stay, you’re also forced to make do with what you’ve got, even if that means fucking dry on occasion. He’s just glad this is happening at all.

It becomes evident that Charles knows his body far too well when every thrust hits that spot inside of him that makes him see stars behind his eyelids and he wants nothing more than to scream over and over again, but Charles won’t let him. Like all the other noises Connor has tried to make, his screams are swallowed by Charles’ kiss. He isn’t going to last long. Not like this. Not only does Charles know exactly how to angle his hips to make Connor go crazy, he’s got a hold on Connor’s cock that makes everything absolutely unbearable. The combined sensations are too much and when his head rolls back on his shoulders he doesn’t even notice the pain when he hits the wall.

When Charles spills inside of him it’s all over. He comes almost immediately, making a mess of Charles’ hand which was still on his cock and moaning so loudly not even the continued kisses could muffle him completely anymore. He keeps his own hands grasped firmly on Charles’ shoulders as he lets his legs down to help support his own weight as best he can. They just stand there with their bodies pressed together for some time, no longer caring if they’re caught, just that they’re together.

Eventually, Charles does move away some, pressing a kiss to Connor’s forehead and rubbing a thumb across his cheek. It’s almost funny. The first time he’d lived this time, he would have never thought that Charles was capable of any sort of affection. Now, after seeing and experiencing the care he gives to those he loves, Connor can’t imagine how he’d thought that. Funny how drastically time changed things.

They help each other get cleaned and redressed in silence. There’s so much to say and discuss about the current situation, but they lack the time to talk about any of it so they don’t say anything at all. There are people waiting for them and to keep them waiting might change things in ways they really don’t want.

They kiss again, softer now that they aren’t in the throes of passion and Charles presses a small piece of paper into his hand. An address.

“Meet me there soon.”

Charles squeezes his shoulder comfortingly and leaves after that. He sighs and leans against the wall now that Charles isn’t there to support him anymore. He wishes he knew when “soon” would be. The idea of being separated for long when this whole thing could be a trap is somewhat nerve wracking.

He can’t just stand here forever, though. No matter when “soon” is he has to go back to the Homestead now. He only hopes the people who live there are as alive as they’re supposed to be in this time and not as dead as they are in the future he remembers.


	2. Chapter 2

He could cry from happiness when he reaches the homestead. Nothing is burning, the people are alive, and everything is just as he remembers it being before Washington revealed his true colors. Were he anyone else, he might have even dropped to his knees and kissed the ground, so grateful he is for the lack of destruction and death. When he reaches the manor, the feeling grows tenfold. When he walks out the back door and sees Achilles it grows one hundred fold. Achilles is just sitting there, watching the sunset, and most likely unaware that Connor is even behind him, but it’s one of the best things he’s seen in years.

When he closes his eyes he can still see Achilles’ head on a spike, his body half burnt beneath it, and a note reading “give up your resistance” attached to it. It had been Washington’s first attempt at destroying his will to continue fighting and undoubtedly the most painful. It was also the first time Charles had displayed any real kindness towards him. Charles had only given his shoulder a somewhat comforting squeeze while Connor emptied his stomach of what few contents were in it, but it was ten times more than what he’d expected. Even more unexpected was the way he’d taken Achilles’s head down as gently as possible.

“I assume your return means Johnson is dead.”

Achilles isn’t facing him and it causes a spark of childish annoyance that even when he thinks he’s being discreet Achilles still manages to catch him. The annoyance makes him happy. He’d missed feeling that way.

“No. He retreated when we destroyed the tea.”

The words come naturally, exactly as they should in a conversation he’s already had and the rest of the conversation passes in much the same way. Better to change as little as possible, even in a conversation as unimportant as this one.

“Achilles…”

He pauses. He hadn’t done this the first time and he wonders if it’s going to be a problem that he’s doing it now, but remembering everything that had happened—that will happen if he and Charles can’t change things—it hardly seems harmful.

“What is it?”

“Would you mind some company?”

Achilles doesn’t answer verbally, only moving his cane from its place next to him to make room for Connor. Neither of them say much, mostly small talk here and there, but it’s comfortable and comforting and he wishes he had done this more often the first time before everything took a turn for the worst.

\------

It’s three days later that Connor goes to meet Charles.

He tells Achilles that he has business in Boston and the old man doesn’t press for specifics, for which Connor is grateful. It isn’t a rare thing that Connor would leave to go to the city on occasion, especially if he felt that there was some lead on the Templars to be found there, but the fact that he’s going to meet one of those Templars has Connor feeling paranoid. It would be difficult to explain to explain the sudden peace between them to Achilles and he doesn’t want to do it until it’s absolutely necessary. He doesn’t like lying, but he doubts Achilles would believe the truth, anyway.

The size of Charles’ estate catches him off guard. He’d forgotten that before everything went to hell Charles had been a fairly wealthy person and he takes a moment before knocking to just stare at the house. It’s larger than even the manor on the Homestead and compared to the meager headquarters they were forced to stay at in the future, it’s a castle. When he knocks it’s a servant that answers the door and he isn’t sure if he should say who he is or if he should just tell her that Charles should be expecting him. It’s possible that Charles’ servants in this time are Templars and if they are it’s possible that they would know him as an Assassin—an enemy.

In the end it doesn’t matter. Charles walks by and when he sees Connor he dismisses the servant and motions for Connor to follow. Both of them are silent until they reach Charles’ office and even then they don’t immediately say anything, opting instead for fucking against the doors the moment they’re closed.

“I assume your homestead and its residents are all alive and well.”

Connor nods, but doesn’t look up at Charles as he redoes the buttons of his coat. “I assume the same of your Templar brothers.”

The words come out sounding more resentful than he’d intended and the word “Templar” sounded absolutely venomous. It’s been so long since the topic of Templars and Assassins has come up that he’d forgotten his almost natural hatred for the former.

When Connor does look up Charles is frowning and not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“And I would like for them to stay that way. We have more important issues to deal with; you do not need to be killing off any of our allies.”

Connor opens his mouth to protest, has an angry look of indignation to go with it, but the words die in his throat before they’re ever actually formed. They aren’t his allies, he wants to say, but it would be a ridiculous argument. If anything, certain people within the Templars are more allies to him than even Charles himself is in this time—his father to name at least one, William Johnson who, as Charles has told him, genuinely did want to protect his people, even if it didn’t seem that way in the end. To deny that they’re allies would be to give Charles the label of “enemy” once again and that was something he’d rather not do.

Charles grabs his arm and he’s not sure if the gesture is supposed to be comforting or if it’s only a way of getting his attention. Either way, it does more of the second than the first and Connor remains silent while Charles speaks.

“As much as I would love to argue with you over this, we do not have the time. The Templars are not your enemies. So long as you do not hunt them, they will not hunt you. I will make sure of that.”

He pauses, maybe to collect his thoughts, maybe to allow Connor a chance to say something if he has anything to say, but Connor is too busy being irritated to respond. He knows the Templars aren’t his real enemies anymore, but being back in this time and thinking of everything that had happened—it’s easy to get swept up in the emotions he once felt validated in feeling.

“We must not allow ourselves to get caught up with the events of the past. Obviously we will not be able to change our past actions too drastically unless we wish to draw attention to ourselves, but certain things will have to change if we wish to tip the scales in our favor.”

Connor nods and tries to think of the things that would have to change to make the future better than it is. “What changes did you have in mind?”

“You will not kill any of my Brothers, for one. If your desire to do so is too strong for you to ignore, you may rid the world of Hickey, but do attempt to control yourself.”

Connor smirks slightly and snorts in place of laughing. The world would not suffer from the loss of a man like Hickey. He isn’t surprised that he’s the one exception Charles will allow him to make.

“And the things that cannot change?”

“Our public relationship.”

Connor stiffens at that and his expression hardens slightly.

“What?”

Charles rolls his eyes as though the reasoning should be obvious. Maybe it should be, but it isn’t in Connor’s mind. If the Templars are no longer his enemy, why should he act as though Charles is? He glares, clearly unhappy with this. There must be some way to avoid having to act as though he wants to kill Charles. When Connor doesn’t answer, Charles’ expression relaxes into something less annoyed and more exhausted. Charles kisses him, pressing him against the door once again and with so little space between them, Connor can feel himself getting hard all over again.

“You hated me more than anyone in this time. It would be quite a drastic change for you to suddenly act neutrally towards me and not something that would go without notice. I am no more a fan of this than you are, but it is necessary to do things we may not like if we wish to make the future better. How we must act in the presence of others will not change how we act while we are alone, I swear.”

Charles kisses him again, hard and possessive and enough to make Connor hate that they both redressed after their first round against the door. Apparently, that sentiment is shared.

“Come. My bed is cold enough as it is. It would be a shame for it to get any colder.”


	3. Chapter 3

Connor wakes in an unfamiliar bed to the sight of an unfamiliar room and unfamiliar dogs licking him awake. He’s tense for a few moments. His head is still foggy with sleep and he’s having trouble remembering anything aside from his exhaustion. Slowly—slowly, the sleep-fog starts to clear from his head and he rolls onto his stomach to bury his head in the pillows. They smell like a mix of Charles and his dogs. It’s not a particularly good smell, but the scent is comforting and helps relieve some of the tension he’d been feeling just a moment ago. Said dogs bark in protest of his movement, falling off when Connor rolls over, but they’re right back on him when he stops, though the barking doesn’t cease.

“Be quiet.”

It comes out as more of a growl thanks to the rasp from the exhaustion that still lingers in every part of his body and he frowns. It’s times like this when he thinks he might hate sleep more than he likes it. With the way his life is, he rarely gets a moment to sleep peacefully and on the rare occasion he does get some amount of sleep, it’s never enough and his exhaustion just becomes more noticeable.

While he’s thinking about his exhaustion and desire for more sleep, he doesn’t notice the door open or the sound of footsteps approaching the bed. It’s only when one of the dogs is lifted off of him that he realizes someone else is in the room and he turns his head just enough to see Charles from the corner of his eye.

“They won’t stop until you let them have their spot on the bed.”

Connor’s response is an actual growl this time. They’re dogs. It shouldn’t matter where they lay down and it really shouldn’t matter if they have to lie on a slightly different spot on the bed than they might usually.

“They can sleep in your spot, then. I am not moving.”

Charles puts the dog he’d been holding—Spado, he’s guessing, from the black fur—back on the bed next to Connor, but the little beast just hops right back onto him. Charles doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. The dogs keep barking until, finally, Connor gives in and drags himself to where Charles had been sleeping next to him earlier. His whole body feels heavier than usual and even that small action feels like a struggle.

“Don’t you think you’ve slept enough? It’s been over twelve hours already and you have to return to your homestead.”

It’s true. Technically, if they’re going to try and keep things as similar as possible to the way they were before, he shouldn’t have spent the night. He should have just gone back once they’d discussed how things would go, but Charles tended to have a way with words that usually got him exactly what he wanted. In last night’s case, what Charles wanted was Connor. He groans and shuts his eyes again, burying his face into the pillow, only really meaning to stay like that for a moment, but that moment is enough for sleep to start pulling at him again. The pull is seductive, about as seductive as Charles had been the night before and he can feel consciousness slipping away from him again.

“Connor!”

Charles rips the sheets and pillows away from him and forces Connor to turn so that he’s facing him.  
“Haytham is going to be here any minute and you cannot be here while he is. Just having him see you in this house could cause the change that ruins any chance we have of stopping Washington before he goes mad, imagine what could happen if he were to see you naked in my bed.”

Connor rolls his eyes at that, but sits up slowly, scanning the room for his clothes.

“It could also be what leads to a truce between the Assassins and Templars. Would it not be better for him to see that we are able to get along?”

Charles throws his clothes to him with a bit more force than necessary and Connor glares at him. He can’t understand why it would be so terrible if they were to explain everything to their respective orders? If they were to see that Connor and Charles of all people could learn to work together and even have a functional relationship, maybe they would agree that they’d all be better off working together. He gets out of bed and starts redressing. Charles doesn’t respond to his question and Connor has to wonder how it is that Charles is so much older than he is when he’s the one acting like a child. Connor doesn’t look at him while he gets dressed. If Charles is going to act like a stubborn child, than he can too.

“Why would you bring him to your room in the first place?”

He hadn’t really meant to ask, but the words were out of his mouth before he could think to stop himself. It’d only been a fleeting thought that for Haytham to see Connor naked in Charles’s bed he’d have to be in the room and what reason would Haytham have to be in Charles’s bedroom? Office, maybe, but bedroom? It seemed a bit odd.

“What?”

Charles looks up from the book he’d been scanning while Connor got dressed, the anger suddenly gone from his features. Instead, he looks nervous and that makes Connor suspicious. It was a simple question, one he hadn’t originally even cared about the answer to, but Charles is fidgeting with his ring and his sneer has softened into a worried frown. He’s hiding something and not even bothering to hide that he’s hiding whatever it is.

“My father. The only way he could see me naked in your bed is if you were to bring him here. What reason would you have for bringing him to your room?”

The room is suddenly filled with a suffocating tension. Charles’s posture stiffens and rather than looking at Connor, he’s looking towards the window facing the front of the house. A carriage pulls up and Connor knows who it is immediately. He can’t see a face, but the hat, the clothes—they belong to his father, he knows it.

He’s still waiting for an answer he has a feeling he’s never going to get. It would be easy for Charles to say the right thing; he’s good at doing that. He knows that Charles and his father had more of a relationship than just mentor and student, second in command and Grand Master. He knows they’d been friends, best friends even. He remembers the way Charles looked at Haytham’s funeral. Charles had cared a great deal about Haytham, but knowing Charles as he does now, he knows that friendship wouldn’t be enough to compel him to bring Haytham to his room. Charles would sooner bring a friend out back to play with the dogs than he would bring them into his room.

Finally, Charles sighs.

“Surely you didn’t think you were my first.”

The response catches Connor off guard at first and he just stares blankly at Charles for a moment. Charles, in turn, rolls his eyes and motions towards one of the windows. All traces of nervousness are gone now, replaced by annoyance once again.

“Well? Are you going to leave or will I have to force you out?”

Connor doesn’t respond to that as his expression changes to one of disgust as Charles’s previous words sink in.

“You and my father? My father?”

He feels sick. Charles and his father? In the beginning, with the way his father had been so insistent on protecting Charles, Connor had had his suspicions, but he’d thrown them out when he and Charles started their relationship. It seemed so wrong to think that the man he’s been with all this time was with his father before. But here was the confirmation of his previous suspicions and everything feels wrong. Was he just a replacement for his father then? Did Charles picture Haytham whenever he’s with Connor? And if the relationship only ended with Haytham’s death then—.A knock at the door brings him out of his thoughts and both of them turn towards it when a servant’s voice comes from the other side.

“Master Lee? Master Kenway is here for you.”

Connor moves to walk out the door, to leave, to confront his father, to do something, but Charles takes his arm with an iron grip and turns him so that they’re face to face again, with very little space in between.

“You will not ruin this. Here we have another chance to stop Washington and you will not destroy it because you cannot handle the truth.”

Connor would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous at that. He feels his shoulders tense in response, can feel himself baring his teeth like a dog about to snap. There was something threatening in Charles’s tone and it brings out the worst in Connor. He knows this feeling. It’s the one he’d get whenever he’d see Charles in the beginning. A touch of sadness hits him with that thought. Is that what they’re going back to? Will everything go back to the way it was just because their former allies are alive and Charles seems unwilling to adjust anything to fit their current relationship?

“Master Lee?”

Charles doesn’t seem to acknowledge the servant, choosing to keep his grip on Connor and continue glaring at him for another thirty seconds instead.

“I will be right there.” He shoves Connor in the direction of the window, walking towards the door when Connor is out of the way. He pauses just before leaving and turns towards Connor once again. “Leave through there. I will write to you once I have dealt with William.”

He doesn’t give Connor a chance to respond, to ask what it is that Charles intends. It would be easy to chase after him, to walk out the door, and demand answers, but Connor stays where he is for another minute at least and by the time he does walk out the door, the sight from the balcony is enough to make him turn back. He can see Charles and his father standing closer than appropriate for a purely platonic relationship from there. He can see their smiles and the way his father rubs his thumb over Charles’s cheek affectionately. The same way Connor does. The same smile Connor gives Charles. It’s like looking at an older, slightly smaller, whiter version of himself.

Connor finds he can’t climb out the window fast enough with that image in his mind.

\---------------

“We should be able to raise the money for William’s little investment within a few months’ time. A minor setback, but one we can easily work around. Once that’s out of the way, we should turn our focus to Benjamin. He’s been growing more and more distant as of late. I worry his loyalties may not be entirely with us anymore.”

Haytham pauses, giving Charles a chance to offer his input on the matters, but he remains silent, not even looking at Haytham. Instead, Charles’s gaze is directed at his tea and Haytham sighs, more concerned than annoyed.

“I fear he is not the only one growing distant.”

Charles looks up at that, confusion clearly painted on his face. Haytham sets his own cup down and stands, walking over to take Charles’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, preventing the younger man from looking away.

“Charles, you’ve never kept secrets from me before. Do not start now. What’s been troubling you these past few days?”

Haytham takes his hand away and Charles leans back for a moment before getting up and walking towards the window. In the faint reflection, Charles thinks he sees Connor in Haytham’s place and he runs a hand over his eyes as though to wipe the image away. He can’t deal with that right now. There are more important matters to attend to.

“It’s nothing. I’ve only been feeling under the weather recently. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Haytham snorts and walks over to Charles, standing close enough that Charles doesn’t have to expend any extra effort to smell him. It’s a comforting smell, one he feels guilty to admit he’s missed, and Charles finds himself leaning into Haytham slightly, if only to get more of the smell. He wishes he could tell Haytham about everything that’s going on, about the future and what Washington will turn into, about possible plans of action to prevent it, about everything. Well, everything except Connor, of course. Charles doubts telling Haytham the truth about that will go over so well. Or does Haytham even know that Connor is his son at this point? Charles sighs without realizing he’s doing it and Haytham looks from the window to him at the action.

“Nothing I need to concern myself with, hmm? Quite a change from how you usually feel when you’re feeling under the weather. Usually you stamp and whine and make your health something everyone needs to concern themselves with when you’re feeling even slightly off. More like a child than a grown man.”

Haytham’s tone is mocking and Charles knows he’s fishing for more of a reaction—for Charles to get annoyed enough that he yells the truth before he truly thinks about what he’s saying. But Charles won’t give him that reaction. He’s too focused on making sure everything goes right. The one thing he’s certain of right now is that he doesn’t want anyone finding out that he and Connor have experienced the future and he’s taking extra measures to ensure that it’s not his own temper that ruins that, though Charles does fear that he’s already let it ruin things with Connor.

“If you are attempting flattery to get a different answer out of me, you are doing a poor job of it, Haytham,” Charles pauses for a moment. It feels like he should say something else, but what else can he say? He can’t tell the truth. Not now; possibly not ever. “I have never lied to you before; I have no reason to start now.”

Charles hates lying to Haytham. It’s true that he’s never done it until now and he hates the feeling of starting. He hates that his first lie is about something so important and he hates that his second lie is about lying. Haytham just stares at him after that. The smirk he’d had before turns into a frown and Charles swears he sees something in Haytham’s expression that looks suspiciously like hurt and Charles feels even worse for it. Haytham doesn’t need this now. For all that he acts like the setback in William’s plans is no big deal he knows it bothers Haytham more than he lets on. For all that he acts like Benjamin’s actions only bother him because it gives him more to deal with as Grand Master of the Colonial Rite he knows it bothers Haytham because it feels like he’s losing a friend. Charles hates to make him feel like he’s losing his best friend and lover as well.

It takes more effort than Charles would like to push away the little voice in his head that points out that not only is Haytham losing his lover, he’s already lost him. To his son. If only that son wasn’t currently under the impression that it was the other way around.

He moves closer to Haytham to bring him into a kiss, but Charles fears the truth and all of his guilt are noticeable in it and so he’s quick to pull away. This only seems to make things worse. Charles leans a little to rest his head on Haytham’s shoulder, the way he might have before. It only offers afraction of the comfort it once had, but it’s still something so Charles stays that way. Haytham doesn’t wrap his arms around Charles immediately the way he might have and it only makes things worse. Still, he does it after a few moments and some of Charles’s nerves calm themselves.

“I hope you will find it in yourself to tell me what it is that’s bothering you like this.”

The words are whispered and Charles isn’t entirely sure that he was supposed to hear them so he doesn’t respond to it. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Will you be spending the night?”

There’s little emotion beyond curiosity in his voice. He wonders if that will make things worse. Usually there might have been a hint of hopefulness in his tone, but not now. Much as he still loves Haytham, Charles finds himself wishing it were Connor here with him now. It’s funny. Once, he used to think that if somehow he and Haytham were ever reunited, he would leave Connor in an instant. Now that he has the chance for that, he finds that he wants the opposite. But he can’t leave Haytham completely. Not yet. It would be too risky a move. Haytham is already suspicious of him, what would he think if Charles were to suddenly break off the relationship he is usually so happy about?

“No. I have business to attend to in New York. I leave tonight. I only came here to see how you were faring.”

Both of them attempt smiles, but they’re weak and fade quickly. Charles walks him to the door and they remain silent for the walk there, doing little more than nodding their goodbyes when Haytham gets in his carriage to leave.

Charles feels a new wave of guilt. He could have been more receptive to Haytham. At least until he figures a natural way of breaking things off he could make more of an attempt to act like nothing is out of the ordinary, but what’s done is done. For now, he’ll have to try and fix the other two messes in his life: Connor and the future.


	4. Chapter 4

“I take it your business did not go as you had expected.”

Connor barely even registers the fact that he’s in the manor before he hears Achilles’s words. The ride back to the Homestead is a blur of anger and disgust and a twinge of regret and he sneers at the stairs before turning to Achilles. He can feel the words on the tip of his tongue—“when does Charles Lee ever allow things to go as expected”— and he nearly lets them slip, but he bites his tongue and lets the words fade to make room for the pain. Much as Connor would like to piss off Charles in the way he’d done to Connor, admitting to meeting with the Templar’s second in command is probably not the best way to do it. Charles might get angry with him for telling Achilles of the future, but Achilles would be downright furious if he knew that Connor had an alliance with the man, much less that he had a relationship with him.

“No. It did not.”

Connor leaves it at that, turning back around to storm up to his room, and hoping that will be the end of that. He’s too angry to deal with Achilles now. It’s easy enough for them to fall into petty arguments over the smallest things on a regular basis, the last thing they need is to get in an argument because Connor has nowhere else to direct his anger at Charles. He almost feels like a child again with the way he stomps up the stairs and throws himself onto his bed; “almost” because there were no stairs to storm up in his village and “almost” because very few children face the dilemma of their lovers also being their fathers’ lovers. The feeling only gets worse when he hears the sound of Achilles’s cane following him up.

He should have known Achilles would follow him. He should have just stayed down there instead of making Achilles come up after him. The man is too old to be chasing Connor up the stairs like this; it’s not fair to him. Especially not with the fate he suffers.

Achilles doesn’t say anything at first. Connor only knows he’s standing in the doorway because the footsteps and the sound of the cane thumping against the ground of have stopped. Still, he doesn’t acknowledge Achilles’s presence there. He doesn’t want to talk about this. There’s really no way he can, anyway.

“Clipper paid a visit while you were here; claimed he had urgent business to discuss with you.”

There’s a split second where Connor feels relief that Achilles isn’t pressing the issue. The second passes when Achilles’s skeptical tone processes in his mind and he keeps his eyes carefully focused on the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at the old man when he continues speaking.

“Strange. I thought he lived in Boston—where you claimed to be—yet he was completely unaware that you were there. Just what sort of business did you have that you were unable to tell your recruits?”

Shit. That’s one thing Connor hadn’t been anticipating. He tries to wrack his brain to find some reason for Clipper to have come to the Homestead, but nothing comes up. He can’t remember Clipper ever paying a visit in the six months between the first attempt at foiling Johnson’s plans and Johnson’s death. What could have changed? And how did Clipper know to come here? At this point, Clipper still should have been very new to the Brotherhood. Connor hadn’t shown him how to get to the Homestead yet.

“It was personal. Unrelated to the Brotherhood. I did not want them getting involved when they did not have to and it is not something I wish to talk about.”

The excuse is weak, but it’s all he’s got for now. Besides, it’s not completely untrue. Certainly most of what happened during his visit with Charles was more personal than anything they discussed that concerned the Brotherhood. Still, Achilles’s gaze is critical and disbelieving and Connor shifts slightly, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of it. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Achilles turns away and sits up slightly.

“I suppose you’ll be returning to Boston soon, then.”

Achilles still sounds skeptical, but Connor tries to push his nerves away. He’s never been very good at lying to the old man and having to do it now when everything else is turning into such a terrible mess does him no favors.

“Yes. I will leave tomorrow so I can return quickly.”

Quicker than he had this time, at least, since this time he’ll actually be going to Boston. The ride from Boston is much shorter than the ride from Virginia and, not for the first time since this all began, Connor wishes Charles had moved to Boston two years earlier. Not only is the ride longer, but it’s much less tolerable because of the distance. Connor tries to ignore the little voice in his head that tells him he likely won’t have to make the trip ever again, but he fails and the headache that had been forming since he got back gets even worse.

He tries to let the rest of the day pass without incident, not actively avoiding Achilles, though the desire to do so is strong. Instead, he forces everything to the back of his mind, offering to play a game of Fanorona and help with the chores around the manor.

Connor leaves early that day, somewhat anxious to see what “urgent business” Clipper had for him. The last time he’d spoken to Clipper about “urgent business” was when Clipper was delivering the news to Connor and Charles that Washington and his army were approaching their headquarters. Until they’d been thrown back into the past, it’d been the last time he’d really spoken to anyone beyond giving out orders to the few allies they had.

Briefly, Connor wonders if maybe Clipper remembered it all, too. Sam and Stephane and almost everyone else seemed to have had their memories of Washington’s true colors wiped, but what if Clipper remembered? What if that explains the unexpected visit at a time when nothing should be truly unexpected? And if he remembers, what if some of the others remember, too? Again, Connor’s nerves spike, but they’re hopefully this time and without really thinking about it Connor spurs the horse on faster. He’d only been mildly curious about this “urgent business” of Clipper’s before, but now he can hardly wait to find out what it is.

Once he gets to Boston, finding Clipper is easy. Of the two places Connor knows Clipper frequents the most—home and his training area—Clipper is in the latter and Connor has never been happier for his recruit’s predictability. Calling it a training area is a little misleading. The only thing Clipper ever practiced here was shooting inanimate targets and that was something he hardly needed practice in. Now his footwork and swordsmanship—those were things Clipper usually needed to work on the most. Rather than using this area for training, Connor had a feeling it was more of an area Clipper could come to in order to boost his ego after watching his Brothers in Arms do so much better than him with their blades. As good as they were with a sword; none of them could match Clipper’s marksmanship.

“Achilles said you had urgent business you wished to discuss with me.”

When Clipper turns without any hint of shock on his face, Connor can’t help but feel a surge of—not pride, exactly, but something like it. Once, there was a time when everything took Clipper off guard. He’d get so focused on one thing that everything else around him faded into the background. Not good for an Assassin. Once the pride-like feeling passes, though, Connor’s hopeful nerves grow. The time when Clipper should have been as unobservant as that is now. If he was able to tell that Connor was here before he even said anything—if he was able to remember his training from the future—maybe it really did mean he remembered everything else, too.

“Yes, I—” Clipper pauses, expression slightly nervous now. “I’m not entirely sure how to tell you. It’s some pretty strange business, too.”

Connor raises a hand to stop him before he can say anymore. Strange business? That’s exactly what Connor wants to hear. There could be no better word to describe going back over ten years on the past.

“Just tell me. I can assure you, no matter what it is, I’ll believe you.”

Clipper hesitates again, still unsure of himself, but speaks anyway.

“I remember things—strange things. About Washington, about the war. About you and the Homestead and Charles Lee. We all remember. All of us except Stephane. We think it’s because he—”

Connor cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. More than nervous, Clipper looks upset now and for good reason. It’s never a happy thing to remember friends dying. Connor lays a hand on Clipper’s shoulder, squeezes it in what he hopes is a comforting gesture, and sighs. He’s both relieved and unsure of what to do now. It’s good that they’ll have more allies, but what will they do about Stephane? They can’t work around him. He’s Connor’s second-in-command. Keeping a secret like this from him won’t be easy or ideal.

“How much does he know? What did you say when you found out he doesn’t remember?”

Clipper frowns and shakes his head.

“Didn’t say anything to him. Deborah, Jaime, and Jacob came over soon as they could. Stephane didn’t recognize any of ‘em. He only knew me and Duncan. We told him they’re part of the Brotherhood, but beyond that he doesn’t know anything about what’s gonna happen.”

Shit. So as far as Stephane is concerned, time has never progressed beyond this point. That makes things even worse. Still, he can focus on the positive. Even if they have to work around Stephane completely, at least they’ll have more allies than they originally thought.

“Charles will be glad to hear that the rest of you, at least, have your memories. And if Stephane doesn’t remember anything because of what happened to him, it explains why everyone else lost their memories, as well.” There’s a moment of hesitation before Connor speaks next. He hates to make his recruits do tedious things like deliver messages, but he really has no desire to see Charles right now. “Could you tell him for me?”

At this, Clipper’s expression loses all traces of nerves and sadness and takes on confusion instead. Understandable. The way things had been, Connor and Charles could barely separate themselves from each other. The fact that Connor was now getting Clipper to visit him instead was more than a little strange. Connor sighs and removes his hand from Clipper’s shoulder.

“I spoke with him the other day. We… had an argument. It’s best if we don’t see each other again for a few days.”

Clipper’s confusion becomes slightly more skeptical at this, but he nods, anyway and doesn’t press the issue. It’ll be good for Clipper to see Charles. Once the words Assassin and Templar lost all meaning, the two had taken to each other quickly. He remembers Charles saying something about Clipper reminding him of himself with Clipper’s eagerness to please Connor and even though Connor remembers smiling at the time, now the memory of those words makes him angry all over again. Charles was eager to please his mentor because he’d been in love with him. Charles had been sleeping with his mentor. Clipper was neither in love nor sleeping with Connor. Charles and Clipper were nothing alike and Charles had no right to compare them.

Connor stays in Boston for the next few hours, speaking with Clipper about how they would have to keep any deviations in their actions from the first time around under extremely tight wraps and getting a little bit of training in. By the time he leaves, it’s dark and he doesn’t arrive back at the Homestead until daybreak, though still before Achilles wakes.

Connor peeks into his mentor’s room, happy to see the rise and fall of his chest as a reminder that no matter what the future held before, things were different now. And if Connor had anything to do with it, things would stay different.


End file.
